


Give a Hand

by allislaughter



Series: Wordplay: So Love Us Till Sunset [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Stimming, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26403628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter
Summary: Nick catches Rig staring at his hand. The exposed, metal one to be more specific. Either Rig is constructing a poem about it, or he only just now realized its current state and is caught up in that fact. Either way, Nick should really put an end to it.
Relationships: Nick Valentine & Original Male Character(s)
Series: Wordplay: So Love Us Till Sunset [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901830
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Give a Hand

The look of concentration on Rig’s face is only slightly worrying. Nick knows to expect that look when Rig is thinking of rhymes for poems or trying to solve a particularly intriguing math problem from who knows where. It’s normal and harmless—usually. The fact it’s coupled now with Rig staring at Nick’s hand—the exposed, metal one at that—makes Nick a bit more uneasy. Nick tests it, of course. He moves that hand around, uses it to pick something up or make a gesture as he talks about something Rig is  _ just _ aware enough to respond to properly, and he watches Rig’s eyes follow his hand the entire time...

Nick has it narrowed down to two possibilities. One, Rig is constructing a poem about Nick’s hand. Two, Rig has only now realized it’s metal and exposed and is caught up in that fact. Either way, Nick should really put an end to it.

“Hey,” he says. “You know you’re staring?”

“Yeah,” Rig says.

Nick blinks. “Well. Stop?”

“Oh—” Rig looks away immediately, at nothing in particular, going so far as to screw his eyes shut in a tight grimace. “Sorry. I was just— Was thinking ‘bout something...”

“That so?” Nick eyes Rig warily. “Something you need to talk about...?”

“No...”

“...Something you  _ want _ to talk about?”

“...Yeah.”

Well, that’s progress. Nick pulls up a seat in front of Rig and waits for him to notice he’s there. Once Rig is looking at him—or towards him in any case—Nick waves his hand for Rig to explain. “Go on. What’s the matter?”

“It’s— It’s just...” Rig waves his own hands as he tries to process his own words. “I just...  _ hands.” _

“Hands,” Nick repeats.

“They’re  _ weird,” _ Rig says. He flexes his hands out in front of him. “Lots of people have ‘em. Lots of people have  _ two _ of ‘em. I have two, you have two. They— They-they-they-they— They  _ touch _ things and it’s...  _ things.” _

Nick raps his fingers across his knees. “Alright,” he says. “Can you explain that in a different way? I’m getting that you have some fascination with hands but don’t get what you want out of it...”

“Oh, uh...” Rig frowns. “Um... I’m...  _ tactile. _ I like... touching things and... feeling textures. It— It’s... Soothing. And I was... noticing how um...” He winces. “You might think it’s weird...”

“...You want to... touch my hand,” Nick surmises. “Really now?”

“It...” Rig sighs. “Yeah. It looks like it’d be a good... feeling. Just— I didn’t want to say anything because it’s weird. I don’t really tell people that, well... That I want to just... see what something feels like, ‘specially if it’s on their body, because that’s  _ rude _ and people think I mean it in gross per— perverted ways...?” He groans. “I’m... conscious enough about... body weirdness to know people will assume I don’t mean it in the way I mean it in. I... didn’t mean to stare, sorry... Just it... S’not flesh, so it... looks less gross than most people’s hands...”

“...I see,” Nick says. “Well. You’re not wrong. It isn’t a request most people would take innocently...”

“Right?” Rig whines. “There’s no way to describe it that doesn’t sound bad. I used to steal the free samples of paint textures from hardware stores whenever Rig took me there for supplies because those were fun to touch, but I couldn’t explain  _ that’s _ what I wanted them for, so had to hide ‘em so Rig wouldn’t think I wanted to repaint the house in those colors... And that’s bad enough, but when it’s a  _ person...” _

Nick hums and flexes his metal hand. “...Just the texture?”

“Well... No,” Rig says. “Also looks... Want to, um... Joints. Moving parts. It— It looks... Calming? To— To just. Feel. Move around. Better than your other hand.” He nods toward Nick’s left hand, and Nick curls in his fingers on that hand. “Because— Because I feel like if I can see what I’m doing on that hand, less likely to accidentally break it. Because can see where the different bits are... It’s— It’s  _ weird, _ people think it’s weird, that I think this way, but it looks  _ safe _ and  _ comforting _ to just...  _ hold _ and trace and— and-and-and I should... stop rambling...”

“Hey, no,” Nick frowns. “Look. I might not get it myself, and I might think it’s unusual, but it’s alright for you to think that kind of thing, got that? As long as you know better than to touch people without their permission... As long as you know better than to say this kind of thing directly to them without them asking and without them understanding what kind of person you are.” He smiles and pats Rig’s knee comforting. “But I asked, and I know you don’t mean it in a rude or inappropriate way, got that? It’s okay for you to talk about it. Hell, it’s a lot kinder an opinion than most people give me, unprompted at that.”

“Sorry,” Rig winces.

Nick sighs. “What are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong.”

“Just... in general,” Rig says. “Feel like I did something wrong... I— I’m scared to ask. But— But I, um... Is it okay if I...?” He motions vaguely. “Just— If it’s okay to see if it... does feel like I’m imagining...?”

“Don’t make a habit of it,” Nick says. He holds his hand out. “But we have some time before anyone comes back in. I’m trusting you not to break anything. I’m practically an antique at this point.”

“I know how to handle antiques,” Rig says. “Mom liked to collect them. S’why she married Dad.”

Nick jerks his hand back as his shoulder shakes from laughter. “God  _ damnit, _ Rig. You ever tell him that to his face?”

Rig smiles nervously. “I can be witty sometimes... Um... You— You need to sit still though. I don’t want to pull on something if you move your hand too fast.”

“Right, right, sorry.” Nick holds his hand out again as his laughter dies down, this time sitting still and giving Rig a chance to take hold of the metal plating on the back and trace along the lengths of his fingers...

The look of concentration returns, but something is different about it than usual. Something quiet, something serene. He watches Rig’s hands explore his own, gentle and testing what pressure is safe to use. Almost methodical, like a scientist testing a hypothesis... but with the soft look of a curious child.

“Isn’t sharp on the edges,” Rig says. “S’rounded?”

“Safer to handle,” Nick agrees. “Less likely to cut through the synthetic skin too. Though  _ other _ things can rip through it, and it’s a damn miracle I even still have this arm. Shame, though. The skin is where the touch sensors are...”

“Nerve endings,” Rig says. “Like human skin flesh.”

“...Sure.”

“So you can’t feel this,” Rig observes. He works slower, more careful, especially as he reaches Nick’s exposed palm. Nick watches Rig’s brow furrow as Rig focuses on safe handling.

Nick chuckles.  _ Handling. _ “No, I can’t,” he says. “You weren’t kidding about knowing how to deal with antiques.”

“S’just like with anything else,” Rig says. “You don’t break people’s things, and you don’t break people’s bodies...” He places his fingertips on the metal running from Nick’s fingers and down to his arm. “Can you, um...?”

Nick slowly opens and closes a loose fist, and he smiles at Rig’s delighted grin. “You’re getting something from this, huh?”

“It— Yeah.” Rig moves back to Nick’s fingers at the joints as Nick repeats the movement, with Rig following along with the movement rather than fighting against it. “Feels good. Feels happy. Colder than I thought. Rougher, but a good rough. Movement is— It’s good. Calming-soothing, like I thought... I like your hand. Good— Good tactile feel...” He looks up at Nick. “If I... need to stop...?”

“You’re fine,” Nick chuckles. “Like I said, this is better than most people’s opinions.”

“Some people have bad opinions,” Rig says. “Rude— rude people. I like— I like that, um...” He darts his eyes from Nick’s hand up to Nick’s face and back down again. “That— That you’re letting me do this. That you’re being supportive even if you think it’s weird. I— I like that you trust me enough to let me do this. Because— Because it means you... That you don’t understand why I like this kind of thing, but you care enough not to mind and that I’m trustworthy enough to get to... If— If that makes sense... Thank you.” He traces across Nick’s hand once more and then pulls away. “I think I’m good now. Thank you.”

Nick flexes his hand and pulls back to sit up straight. He smiles at Rig who smiles back. “You’re welcome.”


End file.
